


Validation by the Hour

by Seiberwing



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Backstory, Drabble, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Mid-Season, community theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 06:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21441559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiberwing/pseuds/Seiberwing
Summary: Shadow Weaver does a little off-the-clock questioning of their newest prisoner, and Double Trouble expounds upon their personal philosophy.-----"Everyone needs validation. Granted, your girl Catra's a special case...but that's how you made her, so you know that already.""If you want to send me on a guilt trip for my past sins, there's a waiting list.""Guilt trip? Hardly! You changed sides twice and managed to claw your way up from the bottom both times. As one player to another, I'm very impressed."
Comments: 11
Kudos: 138





	Validation by the Hour

**Author's Note:**

> A small dollop of a fic I wrote for two of my favorite assholes in SPoP. Takes place somewhere between “Mer-Mysteries” and “Destinies Part 1″, spoilers for season 4 abound, unbetaed because it needed to get out the door already.

Shadow Weaver genuinely enjoyed teaching. At least, she did when the pupil showed any promise at all, which Glimmer certainly did despite her (understandable) lack of trust. They could work on the trust thing. Shadow Weaver was willing to be patient. 

Right now, the thing testing her patience was her missing shears. She only had so many 'wandering around alone at night without guards' credits to burn with Glimmer right now, and blowing one on finding garden equipment was a total waste. On the other hand, with the palace as paranoid as it was now, having a sharp object formerly in her possession found in a prisoner's "cell" wouldn't look great.

"Welcome back, darling."

Shadow Weaver pointedly did not look at the green individual sprawled on the chaise lounge in the middle of the room. She instead started peering behind the furniture, looking for places the shears could have fallen when she put them down.

"I understand now, Shadow Weaver." Catra's voice - soft, vulnerable, nearly quivering with emotion - drifted across the room. "I understand now, why you did what you did. You were preparing me to be strong - and you know what, it worked. I'm grateful, even if I won't admit it. You did make me strong."

"I don't need validation from her," Shadow Weaver grumbled.

"Then what about her?" Adora's voice. "Or her?" Castaspella. "Or him?" Hordak's, making her snort in derision. 

"Got it, definitely not Hordak. There was a hot minute where I was wondering if you two were a thing, but—"

"I don't need validation from anyone, shapeshifter." Damnit, where the hell were those shears.

"Everyone needs validation. Granted, your girl Catra's a special case...but that's how you made her, so you know that already."

Shadow Weaver glared at Double Trouble from under a chest of drawers. "If you want to send me on a guilt trip for my past sins, there's a waiting list."

"Guilt trip? Hardly! You changed sides twice and managed to claw your way up from the bottom both times...as one player to another, I'm very impressed."

"Where did you even come from, anyway? I'd know if we had someone like you around before I...took my leave of the Horde. " Assuming that was actually Double Trouble's true form, Shadow Weaver couldn't recall ever seeing anything quite like them at all. There were certain people of Snake-Man heritage who could change their coloring or slightly rearrange their bodies, but nothing on Double Trouble's scale. If they'd been with the Horde when she was still in power, the war might well have ended early.

Double Trouble counted off on their fingers. "Do you want Tragic Orphan Backstory numbers one, two, or four? I retired three, turns out I accidentally stole it from a romance novel I read when I was twelve - ooh, there's also the one where I imply that I could be unknowingly be Hordak's secret child, abandoned for my own protection. I like to drop hints and see if the listeners can figure it out from my clues."

"I can come back tomorrow with a truth spell." Oh, there were the damn shears, stuck between the wall and one of the displaced armchairs. Shadow Weaver stretched out her arm as far it could go and managed to snag one of the handles, grunting with the effort.

"Ugh, you're no fun." Double Trouble stuck their tongue out at her. "Truth is, I don't have a clue. My egg got traded to the person who raised me by a Snake-Man who was probably one of my parents. By the time I hatched, they were long gone, and no one had bothered to even get their name. It's not uncommon in the Crimson Wastes...a lot of people are drifters. Once I grew up and worked off my debt to my 'foster family', I struck out on my own."

"As a spy?"

"Honey, no, spying's a new game. As an artist. I did a lot of community theater - the Crimson Waste's hard up for entertainment, we barely get any broadcasts out there, so the theater scene's pretty lively. And on the side...well. There's always people willing to pay for 'validation'."

At Shadow Weaver's raised eyebrow, Double Trouble slipped down and stretched out on the chaise lounge, feet dangling over the arm. "Get those dirty old lady thoughts out of your head. In the Crimson Wastes it's hard to find someone who gives good hugs. Everything's profit this and cutthroat that. Even your husband will sell you out to the highest bidder. People come to me because I tell them what they want to hear."

As their boots idly kicked in the air they flickered through another set of bodies, ranging across age and species, their voice rising and falling in pitch as they put on each mask. "They want their mom to say no, she really did love them and didn't mean to go out for milk and never come back again. They want their ex to say she misses them even though she's dating a richer, hotter girl now, or that chick that never looks at them to say she's secretly always got them on her mind. They want their grandfather to say he was always proud of them and doesn't blame them for that rock slide that took his life two years ago. They want their boss to say they're sorry for working them so hard. People want to be validated...people want to be loved. And even if they'll never admit it, they'll do just about anything to feel worthy of that love."

Double Trouble's eyes blinked sideways as their skin faded back to green.

Shadow Weaver made a small noise of approval, folding her arms. "That's quite a philosophy. So who validates you, then?"

Double Trouble smiled a grin that nearly split their face in two. Their fingers inscribed a circle in the air. "Everyone."

"Everyone?"

"My public. Every successful performance that moves people - or fools them - is my validation. Attention validates me. Granted, I wouldn't be in this if Catra wasn't paying handsomely, it's so hard to turn a profit in the theater business, but I admit that playing to royalty's been a real novelty."

"So the worst punishment we could give you would be to simply lock you away and ignore you, hm?"

"Ooh. Yes, that's the nasty Shadow Weaver I was warned about. Very into playing dirty." It was skillfully hidden, but Shadow Weaver definitely noticed the shapeshifter flinch at the very idea of being left unnoticed. 

Shadow Weaver looked down at the shears in her hand and carefully worked them a few times, as if cutting off an invisible thread leading between her prisoner and her former pupil. "And conversely, if we were to exceed Catra's offer, you might be willing to...change employers?"

"She never had me sign a contract. You raised a great general but a terrible businesswoman." Double Trouble sat up straight on the couch, then leaned in, their hands pressed greedily together.

"What's your offer, madame Weaver?"


End file.
